Fooled Ya'

Never mind. Staying up all night, fussing and spitting up, is way more fun than sleeping after all. Bait-and-switch, remember?

Night. Right.

I think I'm beginning to catch on. When Mom and Dad lay me in my command center and stretch out next to me, that's called night, and I'm supposed to sleep.

Last night I slept from 11:30 pm until 3:30 am, and then again from 4:30 am until 7:30 am. It feels weird to miss the most tranquil part of the day like that, but it seems to make Mom happier if I take my cuddles when it's light out.

Did You Feed Me After Midnight?

Only two days old, and already I'm pulling the ol' bait-and-switch on the parents. By day I'm an angelic child, sleeping peacefully for four hours in a row, eating eagerly and politely, and blinking adorably when cameras are around. OK, so I spit up once in a while, but that's cute, right?

Then night falls, and I show my true colors. I kicked off last night with a bang, giving Mom a good-sized spitup 5 minutes after Dad left so she could have the fun of hobbling to the changing table and replacing all four layers of my outfit.

I followed with a lusty bout of crying that attracted a passing pediatric nurse, who took off one layer of my clothing on the theory that I was too hot. Mom's bemusement, given that every other pediatric nurse had been telling her to keep me bundled up because I was cold, only added to the moment.

As a final touch, I demanded food every 30 minutes until 4 AM. Now I think I'll catch an hour or two of sleep: the nurse visits start up at 7:00, and I need to recharge my halo.

Three down, 18 to go

I slept 8 hours in a row for the last three nights. It takes three weeks to form a habit. Only 18 more days to go, Mom and Dad!

Sleepless in Santa Clara

I just got back from Albany, and boy are my parents tired. I picked up a cold on the plane, and something's been bothering my tummy. What's a poor baby to do all night?

Cry.

CIO (5)

Game called on account of travel.

CIO (4)

10 minutes.

CIO (3)

10 minutes.

CIO (2)

60 minutes at 8 PM, 45 minutes at 4 AM.

CIO (1)

45 minutes at 7 PM, 60 minutes at 3:30 AM.

Welcome to my crib

I think we used that joke before. Mom says if I'll sleep through the night, she'll write better jokes. Is that an excuse, or a threat?

Anyway, I've moved into larger accommodations. I can stretch out without bumping both ends! Not that I can understand why anyone would want to; I prefer to sleep wedged across the short way.

This crib doesn't play beach noises or heartbeats, but I'm trying to convince Dad to tune the bars so I can learn the xylophone.

Lulled

Woke up at 3:30 AM last night. Stayed awake, effervescent and playful, until 5:00. Gotcha!

Lulling the Parents

For two nights in a row now I've slept from 11 PM until 7 AM without waking. Dad likes to say, "Once is a fluke, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern." Don't worry, though: I'll go back to waking for food at 3:30 and 6:00 as soon as Mom goes back to work.

New digs

Mom and Dad booted me out of my cozy nest in their bed. They claim I outgrew it, but the grapevine says I was wiggling too much for Mom to sleep through. This fancy bassinet makes noises I'm supposed to find soothing. I don't care for the beeps and chirps they call music, but I groove on the internal organs: Lub-dup, gurgle, swoosh. Gets me every time.

This photo shows the calm after the storm. You don't want to be around when this girl misses her morning nap. I tried to curl up in a corner for "time out", but, uh...

What an even bigger bed!

While I was stuck in the crib, someone put these pillows in my usual sleeping spot on Mom and Dad's bed. At least they afford a good view.

For some reason, I slept for 7 hours straight last night. If it's this hotel room, Mom and Dad are in for an expensive few months. How long is the commute from Albany?

What a big bed!

Since we're traveling, I don't have my normal, cozy bed. Instead there's this huge, mesh-sided crate for me to sleep in. Mom and Dad made me a pair of bumpers so I don't get lost; the shoe is solely to keep the bumper in place.

I'm thinking of holding a slumber party. Want to come over to my crib?

Vicious Circle

(Sneaky Mom finally broke it by waiting until I dozed off, exhausted, then feeding me in my sleep so I wouldn't wake right back up.)

Sleeping Like a Baby

For the sake of simplicity, I'll be blunt: sometimes a girl needs to fart. I woke up for my 2 AM feeding last night and felt that unmistakable pressure in my lower regions. A quick snack didn't help, so I raised the alarm (and the rafters) and got both Mom and Dad on the job.

Dad burped me (hah, nice try!) and changed my diaper, then everybody spent a while watching me kick my legs and yell. Finally I managed to pass the gas, so it was playtime! What? You're both already up, why don't you want to play?

The ol' fuddy-duddies swaddled me back up and put me in my bed, and then Mom sang to me. It took a virus in the bacterium on the hair on the leg on the mite on the wing on the flea on the fly on the frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea, but finally I fell asleep around 3:30.

And then I got hiccups.

I got back to sleep a little before 4:00, in plenty of time to wake up at 6:00 for my next feeding. How come Mom and Dad looked so out of it this morning?

I Win!

A couple of days ago, I described The Man's attempt to crush my free spirit by imposing a bedtime ritual.

Thanks to my lengthy and strident protests, Mom and Dad gave up on that. Now they don't try to put me to bed until I get sleepy. Mua ha ha, I have regained control. See you at 1 AM!

Crushed by The Man

Mom and Dad decided I need more "structure", which I am sure is a synonym for repression. Since I'm too short for the military academy, they started with a bedtime "routine", which is a synonym for soulless orthodoxy.

Every day starting at 8 PM, they march me down this weary path:

1. Feed me until I slosh. 
   
2. Change my diaper and brush my gums.
   
3. Slide me into a sleeping "swaddle" (straitjacket).
   
4. Read a story and sing a song (mental indoctrination).
   
5. Tuck me snugly into my co-sleeper and lie down beside me (physical coercion and intimidation) until I get drowsy.
   

The Man is cramping my style. A girl just can't be a free spirit (as in wailing banshee) anymore.